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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124481">Through the Dark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate/pseuds/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate'>My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Death, Death by starvation/sickness, Death in Childbirth, I cried writing this, I mean they're all ghosts, Quick and Dirty Angst, There's a lot of symbolism in how each ghost leaves, just saying</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:27:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>851</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28124481</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate/pseuds/My_Coffee_Is_Hot_Chocolate</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is once again in the Refuge, and he has some visitors of a supernatural variety.</p><p>You want quick and dirty angst? I give you quick and dirty angst.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Through the Dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jack didn't know how long he'd been in the cell. It was a small room, with no windows. There was a tiny slot where trays of food were pushed through. That was the only way he could keep time. They weren't feeding him regularly, but he could keep track of events, in a manner of speaking.</p><p>He first saw Flinch after his third meal.</p><p>Jack had been asleep after his meal, feeling exhausted by expending that little energy. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't expecting a pair of dark brown eyes to be staring him down. It took a moment to recognize him. Flinch had died when Jack was 15, and three years later the memories of his face had faded. </p><p>Flinch smiled lopsidedly. "Hey Jackie. How you feeling?" His eyes twinkled with familial affection. He rocked back to sit cross legged. Jack tried to follow his lead, but his legs were too stiff. </p><p>Flinch took that as his answer. "Not so good, huh?" He looked sad. "Looks like you're in a bit of a spot." He scooted closer to Jack and gently touched his arm. A little strength flowed into him, but Flinch seemed less there. </p><p>"I have to go." The boy said. Distantly, Jack remembered Flinch as older. Now, they were the same age. It was so weird. His head fell back until it thumped against the wall. He stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering if he was going insane finally. When he looked back up, Flinch was gone. All that was left was a warm feeling, and a small bead. </p><p>Jack pocketed the bead, desperate for something real.</p><p>The fifth feeding, he saw Dash. The little boy appeared between bites of bread.</p><p>Jack nearly scrambled away. The child in front of him barely looked human. His cheeks were hollowed out. His eyes were sunken in. His clothes hung off of him like he was a rack. But his eyes, a light brown, were as alive as ever. It took Jack no more than a second to recognize the boy.</p><p>"Can I have some of that?" Dash asked. He reached for the rest of Jack's bread. </p><p>Without even thinking, Jack pressed it in to his hands. "It's yours." He says quietly, tears building. "Dash, I'm so sorry." He starts to cry. "I should have done better."</p><p>Dash hugs him. "I was sick." He says quietly. "You did everything you could."</p><p>Jack hugged him tightly, and found the boy he hugged was… Maybe even a little chubby? When he pulled back, he saw a round cheeked six year old. </p><p>Dash hugged him one more time, and he faded away in Jack's arms. All that was left was a bit of warm, fresh bread with butter. </p><p>On the 8th feeding, Jack saw his mother.</p><p>Jack had been feeling weaker than ever, exhaustion taking him away slowly. He was lying on his side, shivering, when skirts rustled in the corner. </p><p>He could barely lift his head to see the woman who knelt beside him. He saw the blood that stained her shift. The rest of her skirts were tied up and out of the way. She gently shushed him, and lay a blanket over him. One of her bunched up skirts was placed under his head. She gently kissed his forehead. </p><p>Jack tried to keep his eyes open. He caught a glimpse of a simple but beautifully embroidered dress, without a stain to be seen. He heard a soft lullaby, one that he barely knew. There was a gentle touch on his cheek, and then she was gone.</p><p>Jack remembered the story his father told him. His mother had had five minutes on Earth with him. In those five minutes, she sang him a song and kissed his forehead goodbye. </p><p>On the 11th feeding, Jack finally saw his father. </p><p>At that point, Jack had become sick. He was curled up under his mother's blanket and skirt, clutching them for dear life. He'd been preparing for death when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.</p><p>Jack looked up to see his father. A once tall and proud man, with shoulders like an ocean liner and half as tall as the massive buildings he worked on. But now, he was little more than a broken man. His once thick chestnut hair was streaked with grey, and his sparkling green eyes were full of tears.</p><p>Jack leaned forward to hug him tightly. "You came for me." He cried. "You said you'd come for me, you'd take us out west. Please tell me we're going west. To Santa Fe, with Mom and Dash and Flinch and everyone else!"</p><p>Jack's father held him tightly. "It's not your time." He said quietly. "You have a life left to live. Do what I never could. Take this opportunity, get out of here." </p><p>When they pulled apart, Jack's father was the man he had once been. "You can do this, Jack. We're all protecting you." His father said softly. He stood up, and walked through the door. </p><p>As he did, the locks holding it closed fell open.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yell at me on Tumblr: @hotcocoanddrawing<br/>Or in the comments!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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